


Terrified Gray Eyes

by MissIodine



Series: Starbetween Stories [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassians, Gen, Maquis, Murder, Obsidian Order, Violence, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIodine/pseuds/MissIodine
Summary: Now, as a fully fledged member of the Obsidian Order, Rakelen Ki'Dar is ready to serve Cardassia to the fullest of her abilities. However, her first mission takes a dark, harrowing turn that plants seeds of doubt and disillusionment.
Series: Starbetween Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857370
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Heading Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a backstory for an original character in a custom DND campaign.

“I put my faith in you, _Patra Yuvda_ ,” Vorayn said, resting his hand onto Rakelen’s shoulder.

Patra Yuvda was her cover name for this operation and the foreseeable future--for the coming months at least.

“I am merely honored to serve Cardassia, Legate.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll prove yourself worthy of being an operative of the Order. Run along now.”

Rakelen exited the flag officer’s office. It looked like Legate Vorayn’s guidance and the grueling hours of training finally paid off. Now she was finally ready to safeguard Cardassia as a member of the Obsidian Order.

It was half an hour before the scheduled boarding time for the shuttle to spacedock. She stepped into a turbolift and began riding it to the shuttlebay two floors above. She surveyed Jevosi City from the lift’s windows. It was a place that filled her with pride. Early morning light from dawn captured the gardens below, the amusement center several kilometers away was just opening, and it was all as beautiful as ever.

The lift opened to the shuttlebay moments later and Rakelen disembarked. There was only one ship there at the moment--a Hideki. She figured that must be her transport. It was certainly nothing to be boasted about, but it was a fighting ship that could hold its own if need be.

She approached the supervisor on duty.

“Patra Yuvda. I am here to board the 06:00 shuttle to spacedock.”

The man attentively looked up from his PADD, probably used to dealing with obnoxious guls and legates who flaunted their status. When he realized she wasn’t, he barely acknowledged her presence.

“You may take a seat while you wait. Boarding will begin in fifteen minutes.”

Rakelen did so until the announcement to board came. It was rather uneventful the entire trip through.

When she did finally arrive at the orbital docking station, she was relieved to see Assa waiting for her at the airlock. She greeted her with a smile.

“I didn’t know you were here!” Rakelen exclaimed, giving her childhood friend a hug.

Assa waited for the other passengers to pass.

“I’ve just been assigned to work with you!”

“How fortunate!”

“Yes, but what’s unfortunate is that Troshka, _our dear friend_ , is going to be working with us as well.”

“Troshka Yal from basic? Most unpleasant.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Assa filled her in on some details she knew about the operation, but it was also very limited. The official briefing would take place once several more operatives arrived on the station. In the meantime, they had hot fish juice at the station’s replicator lounge until they received a communique to report to the wardroom.

They walked into the briefing room, taking a seat at the long table. Several others Rakelen assumed to be fellow agents were also sitting there. Troshka was several chairs away, engaged in a conversation with a woman who he was no doubt trying to impress with made up tales of bravery and woe. Others either sat in silence or made quiet whispers to their neighbors. A couple more people filed in, bringing the grand total of attendees to be exactly twenty, then the man at the head of the table introduced himself.

“I am Mersut, your overseer,” he said, silencing the already quiet room. “I have read all of your personnel files and you have all been selected for your expertise. I see no reason to keep any of you waiting, so I will get straight to the point: The Order has decrypted several coded transmissions from the Badlands, leading us to believe a major shipment of weapons is destined for Maquis terrorists. If you’re not familiar with intergalactic politics, the Federation may officially condemn the Maquis, but it is well known that many of their officers sympathize with the movement. Since we know that Starfleet will not attempt to stop that shipment and that Central Command is unwilling to provoke a Federation response by sending a ship into the Demilitarized Zone, we are to pacify the threat to Cardassia. This is an operation that will be carried out in complete secrecy. The mere mention of this operation or this briefing will never leave this room.”

Mersut ran through specifics for the next twenty minutes. At midnight, the Galor-class warship _Klaestrom_ , with special modifications to improve stealth capabilities and commanded by Gul Alderis (an officer who owed the Obsidian Order a favor), would arrive and the operatives would discreetly board it, posing as a minor diplomatic delegation to Tzenketh. However, after plotting a course to Tzenkethi space, the ship would make an unscheduled supply stop at a border outpost where they would make a small incursion into the Badlands. The main objective was to intercept the freighter carrying the Maquis shipment an hour after it entered the Badlands and stay no longer than eight hours. While some agents would only be involved in locating the freighter, the majority of them, like Rakelen, would be directly involved in the boarding party.

Rakelen was eager. It may have lacked that Cardassian plan within a plan within an even more intricate plan leading to a deadly trap, but it was all clean cut, planned out to the letter, and prepared with the finest of complexities--a perfectly simple operation that shouldn’t have any issues.

“Airlock three. Midnight,” Mersut reminded them all.

He declared the meeting adjourned when no questions came up. Mersut left the room, and some followed, but many stayed behind to discuss the operation amongst themselves. A colleague that Rakelen and Assa knew approached them from the far end of the room.

“Patra, Assa. I’m pleased to see you both again,” Mlidac Enrin said, taking the recently vacated seat next to them.

Rakelen and Assa managed to put on pleasant faces in his presence. Mlidac wasn’t the most personable, but he was good-natured enough to have meaningless smalltalk with.

“I think we’re both happy to see you again, Mr. Enrin,” Rakelen said. Assa nodded in conjunction.

Mlidac opened his mouth, about to continue the conversation, when Troshka pushed by the three of them by clearly intentionally bumping into Mlidac’s chair.

“Why hello, Mlidac, Patra, Assa,” Troshka greeted in his smug tone, “I didn’t even realize you were all here.”

“Only because you were too busy gloating. You’d make a better entertainer than a soldier,” Mlidac spat, before immediately getting up and leaving.

Rakelen glared at Troshka. Troshka placed his hand on Assa’s shoulder and it was immediately knocked off.

“Have you ever realized how your scales seem to shine in the light?” Troshka asked soothingly, trying to place his hand back onto Assa.

Neither Assa nor Rakelen were impressed or interested to any extent.

“Don’t. Next time you’ll end up with broken fingers,” Assa retorted coldly.

“Feisty!” Troshka retracted his hand and laughed. “You’ve a lot of spirit!”

Neither of the two women bothered to continue the conversation. They had a long couple of days ahead of them.


	2. The Freighter

The bridge of the Galor Warship and the sight of the Badlands on the viewscreen. was a familiar environment to Rakelen and Assa.

“Sir, the SS _Excalibur_ has entered the Badlands,” the helmsman announced.

“Good. Lay in a pursuit course,” Gul Alderis commanded him.

“Laying in pursuit course. Distance 200,000km and closing.”

Rakelen felt slightly awkward just standing and watching. She was always used to being hard at work, taking orders from a superior officer, and carrying her orders out as a tactical officer. Being an observer wasn’t so much her style.

Alderis hatched a small grin as he straightened his posture in his captain’s chair.

“Hail them.”

The ship’s comm officer tapped their console.

“Channel open.”

“This is Gul Alderis, officer of the Seventh Order. _Excalibur_ , power down your shields and engines, and prepare to be boarded.”

The only reply from the cargo ship was a power build up in their phaser banks and shield emitters.

Alderis turned to the tactical station.

“Ready weapons. Prepare to fire on my mark,” he said, before turning back to the viewscreen that displayed the _Excalibur_ altering their heading to a nearby moon. “If you do not surrender immediately, I will be forced to open fire on your ship.”

The _Excalibur_ fired a short volley of high yield phaser bursts in response, doing noticeable damage to the Galor-class’s shields.

“Cut off transmission!” Alderis yelled. “It seems that our Maquis friends have upgraded their weapons! Return fire and prepare boarding parties!”

Mersut nodded to Rakelen and Mlidac from across the room, signaling it was their time to get ready for close quarters combat. Rakelen and Mlidac left the bridge to gather up the rest of the assault team. Within ten minutes, they boarded a shuttlecraft and were on their way to the enemy freighter.

As the shuttlepod approached, it looked as though the _Klaestrom_ had taken out the _Excalibur’_ s engines, seeing as how they were careening slowly to the side. However, a cornered prey was not to be underestimated; the Maquis were known to be resourceful and dangerous. They’d fight that much harder to make it more difficult for the Cardassians.

The Cardassian shuttle had already masked their energy signature, so the Maquis ship wouldn’t detect them. They quickly docked and the airlock opened. The boarding party quietly entered, seeing as how there wasn’t the sound of alarm yet. Rakelen could hear some voices down the next hallway.

“Once we’re done with the repairs, you should try the I’danian spice pudding. I can’t believe how good it tastes,” one of the voices said.

“I’ll have to. The replicators on board here have made the best food I’ve had in a long while. It’s almost like--wait. Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Rakelen and Assa leaned around the corner to get a better look and few phaser bolts came in their direction from one of the ship’s crewmen, but the Rigelian was quickly dispatched with Assa’s also quick reflexes with the disruptor rifle. The other was also incapacited by Rakelen’s sharp aim.

Mlidac recommended that the assault squad split up to smaller sections--four and four. The squad leader, an experienced combat veteran concurred. Mlidac, Assa, Rakelen, and Troshka would take the fight to the bridge while the other half made their way to the engineering section.

Mlidac was designated the pointman and Assa followed close behind Troshka. Rakelen maintained the rear guard since she didn’t find the idea of Troshka being behind her very reassuring. Judging by the red emergency lights, the ship was in full lockdown at this point. Every door they came across was either sealed or locked, so they took a service junction to deck one and exited right outside the bridge.

Mlidac retrieved a breaching charge from his pack and rapidly typed several of the keys on the detonator’s holo-display.

“Charge set. Ten seconds.”

Rakelen glanced to Assa for a moment.

_Nine._

Assa took a deep breath and nodded to Rakelen.

_Eight._

Rakelen returned her vision to the door in front of them.

_Seven._

Rakelen noted that her disruptor rifle was fully charged.

_Six._

Rakelen trained her weapon on the door.

_Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

Rakelen braced herself.

The breaching charge flashed and disintegrated the door in a wide glow. The Cardassians fired their weapons and stormed in, taking shots at any threat.

The enemy bridge officers fired some return shots, but they quickly realized they had no hope of defending themselves.

“Stop firing! We surrender!”

The Cardassians stopped shooting and the smoke cleared. Several of the freighter crew were dead. No casualties were taken on the side of the Cardassians.

A Bolian man came forward, his hands raised in the air.

“I am Captain Hix. We surrender. Please, do not harm us. We’re only carrying medical supplies and replicator parts.”

“Then why was your ship carrying weapon’s grade armaments?” interrogated Troshka while he pointed his rifle at the Bolian.

“Can you blame us!? We must defend ourselves! You Cardassians threaten our ships, cargo, and people at every turn!”

“That’s because you are terrorists!” Troshka shouted back.

“I’m not even a member of the Maquis! I’m only a freighter captain! You label us as terrorists and criminals because that gives you an excuse to annex our land!”

Troshka grunted disapprovingly and shot the Bolian in the chest, killing him instantly.

The other Cardassians looked at him with disbelief.

“What a pity. I still suspect he was a member of the Maquis,” Troshka remarked, patting his rifle while he looked around the room at the frightened crew. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to kill a Bolian.”

Everyone in the room, including the Rakelen and Assa, was speechless at Troshka’s statement and at the casual murder of an unarmed man who may not have even been involved with the weapons shipment. The thought that some crew members might be purely innocent crossed Rakelen’s mind.

Mlidac broke the tense silence by tapping the comlink on his wrist.

“Team one to team two. Bridge has been secured.” Mlidac still gazed at Troshka with disbelief.

“Excellent, the engineering section has been secured. There is still resistance in the lower decks. Round up the crewmembers you have in the auxiliary cargo hold for interrogation and extraction.”

The dead Bolian’s blood seeped out onto the deck plating, corroding a section of grating. Seeing his dead eyes and bleeding body sickened Rakelen to her core. She turned away.

“Perfect,” Troshka butted in. He aimed his rifle at the Maquis crewmen and waved them over to the corridor. “Don’t want to end up like that Bolian, do you? Move along!”

Rakelen shot Assa a concerned look and Assa shook her head. Neither one of them liked where this was going.

Mlidac and Assa stayed behind on the bridge to run through the ship another time with internal sensors while Troshka and Rakelen escorted their new prisoners to the hold. Troshka was humming an old military tune. A Maquis woman, though more accurately little more than a girl in her teens, in front of her kept turning around and giving her nervous glances with her striking gray eyes.

The proper reaction would have been to shout at the girl, hit her sharply with her rifle stock, and make an example that such behavior, however benign it might be, would not be tolerated. Yet, Rakelen didn’t have the heart to do so. The girl had a reason to be scared even if she was a terrorist. Still, Rakelen couldn't fathom to believe that this young woman was really a conditioned criminal ready to kill for their misguided cause. Deep down, this girl even reminded Rakelen of herself for some unexplained reason. There was something about her mannerisms that said she probably lost someone and joined the Maquis in a bid to get back at whoever she blamed. But despite the small cracks of doubt, Rakelen told herself that this girl didn’t make the right choice.

Once they entered the cargo bay, Troshka and Rakelen ordered the suspected Maquis to sit in the center of the room. A quick tally in Rakelen’s mind set them at fourteen. Most of them were hardened-looking men, but several were practically teenagers and children like the girl she forced in there. It was obvious that their minds must have been malleable enough to join an organization like the Maquis, but they must still be able to see the wisdom to relinquish their ways? Surely if they received therapy in a Cardassian institution they could be reformed! They deserved some degree of amnesty.

A sudden explosive vibration rocked the ship, making Rakelen nearly lose her balance. As she stabilized herself by holding onto a metal structural brace, she saw one of the terrorists try to grab Troshka's weapon. It was one of the older humans and Troshka shot him dead in the short struggle.

“Really!? Who’s next, huh!?” Troshka shouted, aggressively pointing his weapon at a nearby young man. “You want to try next!?”

The young man furiously shook his head no and backed away, but Troshka didn’t relent. He brutally smacked the man in the head with his rifle butt and knocked him into the side of a crate.

Rakelen wanted to yell for Troshka to stop, but she didn’t. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know if it was because she was fearful or something entirely different. All she knew was she didn’t try to stop it. But she did manage to accidentally make eye contact again with that young woman. The girl’s eyes were full of terror and they seemed to just plead ‘why won’t you do something?’ Rakelen looked away, but she couldn’t manage to shake those terrified, desperate gray eyes out of her head.

“Yal, respond!” came Troshka’s comlink.

“What!?” Troshka yelled back.

“We’re going to need all the help we can get! They’ve ruptured an electro-plasma conduit in the lower decks! You and Yuvda need to get down here now! Seal off that cargo container and meet us down here! We’ll transport the prisoners later!”

Troshka tilted his head in the direction of the bay’s single exit point as he glanced at Rakelen and Rakelen made her way to it. Troshka joined her just before she was finished applying the magnetic seal to the compartment.

“Done,” Rakelen quickly said as she connected the last relay and the door clamped shut. “That’ll keep them inside until we’re ready to extract them.”

Troshka huffed, “I have a better idea.”

Before Rakelen could ask him what his supposed plan was, Troshka pulled an emergency release lever. Normally large containers like this one wouldn’t jettison from the ship’s central platform, but by detaching and reconnecting the magnetic relays, the safety measures were no longer in place. The auxiliary cargo hold with all those prisoners immediately decompressed and it catapulted away from the rest of the ship into the plasma storms of the Badlands. From the door’s window, Rakelen could see the bodies floating out into space.

Rakelen was completely speechless. All those people, especially that young woman, who were all alive just moments ago died in a horrific way Rakelen didn’t even want to begin to imagine.

“Y...you just killed them,” was all that she could manage to say.

“Yes, that was the point.”

Rakelen’s grief turned to intense anger, and she punched Troshka as hard as she could, drawing some blood from the corner of his mouth.

“How could you!?”

“Why should we delay their execution and give them the chance to escape?!” Troshka said, gingerly rubbing the side of his cheek.

“I sealed the compartment! There was no way for them to escape short of a plasma torch!”

Troshka shrugged as if he had no quarrels with that massacre and couldn’t be bothered.

“You...you...murdered...all--”

“We’re needed in the lower decks.”

Troshka began on his way to the turbolift without a hint of remorse.

Only after several minutes of looking out that window in utter disbelief at the derelict cargo hold floating aimlessly away did Rakelen finally join the others. By that time, the remainder of the Maquis were already dealt with. The Maquis down there had made a last stand to the bitter end. None of them let themselves be taken alive. The ones who weren’t killed by the strike team had taken their lives to avoid the Cardassian system of jurisprudence.

Mlidac approached her, wringing his gloved hands.

“I’m sorry about the blown relay. There’s no way you could have known connecting a bypass would have blown them out into space. It’s unfortunate that the Maquis left their ships in such a state of disrepair,” he said, grimacing. “Then again, they chose this life for themselves. It’s a fitting end for terrorists.”

Rakelen was confused for a moment, but then it clicked. She turned her attention to Troshka with icy cold knives behind her eyes. He lied. He lied about blowing those people into space. He wasn’t even taking responsibility for it.

“It wasn’t a bl--” she began to say, then stopped. There wasn’t any point in continuing. They’d probably call her insane for feeling anything but relief for the deaths of those people. Even Assa might not even believe her. “Nevermind.”

Mlidac gave her a curious look then disregarded it.

“We’ve stopped the arms shipment. I’d say we accomplished our mission,” Mlidac said.

Assa tapped a device on her wrist and activated the subspace beacon to signal their ‘success.’

When the strike team and their shuttle were retrieved, the cruiser transported the _Excalibur_ ’s cargo on board then opened fire on the already scorched Maquis vessel, scuttling it and leaving what little was left of it to be eventually gutted by the turbulent storms of the Badlands.


	3. Gone Forever

Rakelen’s job was officially done, but she couldn’t shake a horrible feeling growing in her gut. She headed down to the Galor-class’s cargo bay. Several orderlies were already inventorying the Maquis cargo. She accessed a computer console to check the growing manifest. 

Her fears were realized. So far, over 95% of the contents were indeed medical and replicator supplies like the Bolian captain said. There were some weapons--mostly phaser rifles and a few schematics for torpedo platforms, but that hardly seemed to matter. All those people didn’t need to die for what amounted to little more than a small-scale smuggling operation.

Rakelen backed away from the computer and left the room. She tried to forget that she saw that manifest and what happened. Every single member of that ill-fated Maquis ship’s crew was dead and the eyes of that young woman who was now lifelessly floating in space kept flashing in Rakelen’s photographic memory. It was an image that would plague her nightmares.

Yet, Cardassia needed her, didn’t it? She of all people should know that the State was infallible! She couldn’t turn her back on her people for a single, isolated incident! No, she needed to fight and serve. Duty came above all else. It even superseded family in desperate times.

Rakelen returned to her quarters and grabbed the closest bottle of kanar for a swallow of it. Its bitterness might dull the anxious doubts coursing in her veins. She climbed onto her bed and tried to meditate--it usually calmed her in stressful times. But when she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of those crewmen and women. Could she have stopped it, she wondered. If she just intervened fast enough or early enough…

Rakelen burst into tears and felt bile rising in her throat. She ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. 

“No, no! I’m sorry!” she said, hoping that someone in the supposed afterlife might hear her, despite her atheism. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me…I’m sorry…I’m sorry...”

No amount of apologies would ever bring them back.

Rakelen would have done anything to go back in time and save them, but she knew that wishes like those meant nothing. They were gone forever and it was her fault for not doing anything to stop it.


End file.
